Jennifer kept Patrick Maguire waiting for forty-five minutes, and then buzzed Cynthia.
“Send Mr. Maguire in, please.”
Patrick Maguire’s genial manner was gone. He had been outwitted, and he was angry and did not bother to conceal it.
He walked over to Jennifer’s desk and snapped, “You’re causing me a lot of problems, friend.”
“Am I, friend?”
He sat down, uninvited. “Let’s stop playing games. I had a call from the general counsel of Nationwide Motors. I underestimated you. My client is willing to make a settlement.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out an envelope and handed it to Jennifer. She opened it. Inside was a certified check made out to Connie Garrett. It was for one hundred thousand dollars.
Jennifer slipped the check back in the envelope and returned it to Patrick Maguire.
“It’s not enough. We’re suing for five million dollars.”
Maguire grinned. “No, you’re not. Because your client’s not going into court. I just paid her a visit. There’s no way you can ever get that girl into a courtroom. She’s terrified and, without her, you haven’t got a chance.”
Jennifer said angrily, “You had no right to talk to Connie Garrett without my being present.”
“I was only trying to do everybody a favor. Take the money and run, friend.”
Jennifer got to her feet. “Get out of here. You turn my stomach.”
Patrick Maguire rose. “I didn’t know your stomach could be turned.”
And he walked out, taking the check with him.
Watching him go, Jennifer wondered whether she had made a terrible mistake. She thought of what a hundred thousand dollars could do for Connie Garrett. But it was not enough. Not for what that girl would have to endure every day for the rest of her life.
Jennifer knew that Patrick Maguire was right about one thing. Without Connie Garrett in the courtroom, there was no chance that a jury would return a verdict for five million dollars. Words could never persuade them of the horror of her life. Jennifer needed the impact of Connie Garrett’s presence in the courtroom, with the jury looking at her day after day; but there was no way Jennifer could persuade the young woman to go into court She had to find another solution.
Adam telephoned.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you before,” he apologized. “I’ve been having meetings on the Senate race and—”
“It’s all right, darling. I understand.” I’ve got to understand, she thought.
“I miss you so much.”
“I miss you, too, Adam.” You’ll never know how much.
“I want to see you.”
Jennifer wanted to say, When? but she waited.
Adam went on. “I have to go to Albany this afternoon. I’ll call you when I get back.”
“All right.” There was nothing else she could say. There was nothing she could do.
At four o’clock in the morning, Jennifer awakened from a terrible dream and knew how she was going to win five million dollars for Connie Garrett.
“We’ve set up a series of fund-raising dinners across the state. We’ll hit the larger towns only. We’ll get to the whistle-stops through a few national television shows like Face The Nation, the Today show and Meet the Press. We figure that we can pick up—Adam, are you listening?”
Adam turned to Stewart Needham and the other three men in the conference room—top media experts, Needham had assured him—and said, “Yes, of course, Stewart.”
He had been thinking of something else entirely. Jennifer. He wanted her here at his side, sharing the excitement of the campaign, sharing this moment, sharing his life.
Adam had tried several times to discuss his situation with Stewart Needham, but each time his partner had managed to change the subject.
Adam sat there thinking about Jennifer and Mary Beth. He knew that it was unfair to compare them, but it was impossible not to.
Jennifer is stimulating to be with. She’s interested in everything
and makes me feel alive. Mary Beth lives in her own private little world…
Jennifer and I have a thousand things in common. Mary Beth and I have nothing in common but our marriage…
I love Jennifer’s sense of humor. She knows how to laugh at herself. Mary Beth takes everything seriously…
Jennifer makes me feel young. Mary Beth seems older than her years…
Jennifer is self-reliant. Mary Beth depends on me to tell her what to do…
Five important differences between the woman I’m in love with and my wife.
Five reasons why I can never leave Mary Beth.
On a Wednesday morning in early August the trial of Connie Garrett v. Nationwide Motors Corporation began. Ordinarily, the trial would only have been worth a paragraph or two in the newspapers, but because Jennifer Parker was representing the plaintiff, the media were out in full force.
Patrick Maguire sat at the defense table, surrounded by a battery of assistants dressed in conservative gray suits.
The process of selecting a jury began. Maguire was casual, almost to the point of indifference, for he knew that Connie Garrett was not going to appear in court. The sight of a beautiful young quadruple amputee would have been a powerful emotional lever with which to pry a large sum of money out of a jury—but there would be no girl and no lever.
This time, Maguire thought, Jennifer Parker has outsmarted herself.
The jury was impaneled and the trial got underway. Patrick Maguire made his opening statement and Jennifer had to admit to herself that he was very good indeed. He dwelt at length on the plight of poor young Connie Garrett, saying all the things that Jennifer had planned to say, stealing her emotional thunder. He spoke of the accident, stressing the fact that Connie Garrett had slipped on ice and that the truck driver had not been at fault.
“The plaintiff is asking you ladies and gentlemen to award her five million dollars.” Maguire shook his head incredulously. “Five million dollars! Have you ever seen that much money? I haven’t. My firm handles some affluent clients, but I want to tell you that in all my years of practicing law, I have never even seen one million dollars—or half a million dollars.”
He could see by the looks on the faces of the jurors that neither had they.
“The defense is going to bring witnesses in here who will tell you how the accident happened. And it was an accident. Before we’re through, we’ll show you that Nationwide Motors had no culpability in this matter. You will have noticed that the person bringing the suit, Connie Garrett, is not in court today. Her attorney has informed Judge Silverman that she will not make an appearance at all. Connie Garrett is not in this courtroom today where she belongs, but I can tell you where she is. Right now, as I’m standing here talking to you, Connie Garrett is sitting at home counting the money she thinks you’re going to give her. She’s waiting for her telephone to ring and for her attorney to tell her how many millions of dollars she suckered out of you.
“You and I know that any time there’s an accident where a big corporation is involved—no matter how indirectly—there are people who are immediately going to say, ‘Why, that company is rich. It can afford it. Let’s take it for all we can.”
Patrick Maguire paused.
“Connie Garrett’s not in this courtroom today because she couldn’t face you. She knows that what she’s trying to do is immoral. Well, we’re going to send her away empty-handed as a lesson to other people who might be tempted to try the same thing in the future. A person has to take responsibility for his or her own actions. If you slip on a piece of ice on the street, you can’t blame big brother for it. And you shouldn’t try to swindle five million dollars out of him. Thank you.”
He turned to bow to Jennifer, and then walked over to the defense table and sat down.
Jennifer rose to her feet and approached the jury. She studied their faces, trying to evaluate the impression that Patrick Maguire had made.
“My esteemed colleague has told you that Connie Garrett will not be in this courtroom during the trial. That is correct.” Jennifer pointed to an empty space at the plaintiff’s table. “That is where Connie Garrett would be sitting if she were here. Not in that chair. In a special wheelchair. The chair she lives in. Connie Garrett won’t be in this courtroom, but before this trial is over you will all have an opportunity to meet her and get to know her as I have gotten to know her.”
There was a puzzled frown on Patrick Maguire’s face. He leaned over and whispered to one of his assistants.
Jennifer was going on. “I listened as Mr. Maguire spoke so eloquently, and I want to tell you I was touched. I found my heart bleeding for this multibillion-dollar corporation that’s being mercilessly attacked by this twenty-four-year-old woman who has no arms or legs. This woman who, at this very moment is sitting at home, greedily awaiting that telephone call that will tell her she’s rich.” Jennifer’s voice dropped.
“Rich to do what? Go out and buy diamonds for the hands she doesn’t have? Buy dancing shoes for the feet she doesn’t have? Buy beautiful dresses that she can never wear? A Rolls Royce to take her to parties she’s not invited to? Just think of all the fun she’s going to have with that money.”
Jennifer spoke very quietly and sincerely as her eyes moved slowly across the faces of the jurors. “Mr. Maguire has never seen five million dollars at one time. Neither have I. But I’ll tell you this. If I were to offer any one of you five million dollars in cash right now, and all I wanted in exchange was to cut off both your arms and both your legs, I don’t think five million dollars would seem like very much money…
“The law in this case is very clear,” Jennifer explained. “In an earlier trial, which the plaintiff lost, the defendants were aware of a defect in the braking system in their trucks, and they withheld that knowledge from the plaintiff and from the court. In doing so, they acted illegally. That is the basis for this new trial. According to a recent government survey, the biggest contributors to truck accidents involve wheels and tires, brakes and steering systems. If you will just examine these figures for a moment…”
Patrick Maguire was appraising the jury and he was an expert at it. As Jennifer droned on about the statistics, Maguire could tell that the jurors were getting bored with this trial. It was becoming too technical. The trial was no longer about a crippled girl. It was about trucks and braking distances and faulty brake drums. The jurors were losing interest.
Maguire glanced over at Jennifer and thought, She’s not as clever as she’s reputed to be. Maguire knew that if he had been on the other side defending Connie Garrett, he would have ignored the statistics and mechanical problems and played on the jury’s emotions. Jennifer Parker had done exactly the opposite.
Patrick Maguire leaned back in his chair now and relaxed.
Jennifer was approaching the bench. “Your Honor, with the court’s permission, I have an exhibit I would like to introduce.”
“What kind of exhibit?” Judge Silverman asked.
“When this trial began I promised the jury that they would get to know Connie Garrett. Since she is unable to be here in person, I would like permission to show some pictures of her.”
Judge Silverman said, “I see no objection to that.” He turned to Patrick Maguire. “Does the attorney for the defense have any objection?”
Patrick Maguire got to his feet, moving slowly, thinking fast. “What kind of pictures?”
Jennifer said, “A few pictures taken of Connie Garrett at home.”
Patrick Maguire would have preferred not to have the pictures, but on the other hand, photographs of a crippled girl sitting in a wheelchair were certainly a lot less dramatic than the actual appearance of the girl herself would have been. And there was another factor to consider: If he objected, it would make him look unsympathetic in the eyes of the jury.
He said generously, “By all means, show the pictures.”
“Thank you.”
Jennifer turned to Dan Martin and nodded. Two men in the back row moved forward with a portable screen and a motion picture projector and began to set them up.
Patrick Maguire stood up, surprised. “Wait a minute! What is this?”
Jennifer replied innocently, “The pictures you just agreed to let me show.”
Patrick Maguire stood there, silently fuming. Jennifer had said nothing about motion pictures. But it was too late to object. He nodded curtly and sat down again.
Jennifer had the screen positioned so the jury and Judge Silverman could see it clearly.
“May we have the room darkened, Your Honor?”
The judge signaled the bailiff and the shades were lowered. Jennifer walked over to the 16mm projector and turned it on, and the screen came to life.
For the next thirty minutes there was not a sound to be heard in the courtroom. Jennifer had hired a professional cameraman and a young director of commercials to make the film. They had photographed a day in the life of Connie Garrett, and it was a stark, realistic horror story. Nothing had been left to the imagination. The film showed the beautiful young amputee being taken out of bed in the morning, being carried to the toilet, being cleaned like a small, helpless baby…being bathed…being fed and dressed…Jennifer had seen the film over and over and now, as she watched it again, she felt the same lump in her throat and her eyes filled with tears, and she knew that it must be having the same effect on the judge and the jury and the spectators in the courtroom.
When the film was ended, Jennifer turned to Judge Silverman. “The plaintiff rests.”
The jury had been out for more than ten hours, and with each passing hour Jennifer’s spirits sank lower. She had been sure of an immediate verdict. If they had been as affected by the film as she had been, a verdict should not have taken more than an hour or two.
When the jury had filed out, Patrick Maguire had been frantic, certain that he had lost his case, that he had underestimated Jennifer Parker once again. But as the hours passed and the jury still did not return, Maguire’s hopes began to rise. It would not have taken the jury this long to make an emotional decision. “We’re going to be all right. The longer they’re in there arguing, the more their emotions are going to cool off.”
A few minutes before midnight, the foreman sent a note to Judge Silverman for a legal ruling. The judge studied the request, then looked up. “Will both attorneys approach the bench, please?”
When Jennifer and Patrick Maguire were standing in front of him, Judge Silverman said, “I want to apprise you of a note I have just received from the foreman. The jury is asking whether they are legally permitted to award Connie Garrett more than the five million dollars her attorney is suing for.”
Jennifer felt suddenly giddy. Her heart began to soar. She turned to look at Patrick Maguire. His face was drained of color.
“I’m informing them,” Judge Silverman said, “that it is within their province to set any amount they feel is justified.”
Thirty minutes later the jury filed back into the courtroom. The foreman announced they had found in favor of the plaintiff. The amount of damages she was entitled to was six million dollars.
It was the largest personal injury award in the history of the State of New York.
When Jennifer walked into her office the following morning she found an array of newspapers spread across her desk. She was on the front page of every one of them. There were four dozen beautiful red roses in a vase. Jennifer smiled. Adam had found time to send her flowers.
She opened the card. It read: Congratulations. Michael Moretti.
The intercom buzzed and Cynthia said, “Mr. Adams is on the line.”
Jennifer grabbed the telephone. She tried to keep her voice calm. “Hello, darling.”
“You’ve done it again.”
“I got lucky.”
“Your client got lucky. Lucky to have you as an attorney. You must be feeling wonderful.”
Winning cases made her feel good. Being with Adam made her feel wonderful. “Yes.”
“I have something important to tell you,” Adam said. “Can you meet me for a drink this afternoon?”
Jennifer’s heart sank. There was only one thing Adam could have to tell her: He was never going to see her again.
“Yes. Yes, of course…”
“Mario’s? Six o’clock?”
“Fine.”
She gave the roses to Cynthia.
Adam was waiting in the restaurant, seated at a back table. So he won’t be embarrassed if I get hysterical, Jennifer thought. Well, she was determined not to cry. Not in front of Adam.
She could tell from his gaunt, haggard face what he had been going through, and she intended to make this as easy as possible for him. Jennifer sat down and Adam took her hand in his.
“Mary Beth is giving me a divorce,” Adam said, and Jennifer stared at him, speechless.
It was Mary Beth who had begun the conversation. They had returned from a fund-raising dinner where Adam had been the main speaker. The evening had been an enormous success. Mary Beth had been quiet during the ride home, a curious tension about her.
Adam said, “I thought the evening went well, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Adam.”
Nothing more was said until they reached the house.
“Would you like a nightcap?” Adam asked.
“No, thank you. I think we should have a talk.”
“Oh? About what?”
She looked at him and said, “About you and Jennifer Parker.”
It was like a physical blow. Adam hesitated for a moment, wondering whether to deny it or—
“I’ve known it for some time. I haven’t said anything because I wanted to make up my mind about what to do.”
“Mary Beth, I—”
“Please let me finish. I know that our relationship hasn’t been—well—all we hoped it would be. In some ways, perhaps I haven’t been as good a wife as I should have been.”
“Nothing that’s happened is your fault. I—”
“Please, Adam. This is very difficult for me. I’ve made a decision. I’m not going to stand in your way.”
He looked at her unbelievingly. “I don’t—”
“I love you too much to hurt you. You have a brilliant political future ahead of you. I don’t want anything to spoil that. Obviously, I’m not making you completely happy. If Jennifer Parker can make you happy, I want you to have her.”
He had a feeling of unreality, as though the whole conversation were taking place underwater. “What will happen to you?”
Mary Beth smiled. “I’ll be fine, Adam. Don’t worry about me. I have my own plans.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s no need to say anything. I’ve said it all for both of us. If I held on to you and made you miserable, it wouldn’t do either of us any good, would it? I’m sure Jennifer’s lovely or you wouldn’t feel about her the way you do.” Mary Beth walked over to him and took him in her arms. “Don’t look so stricken, Adam. What I’m doing is the best thing for everyone.”
“You’re remarkable.”
“Thank you.” She gently traced his face with her fingertips and smiled. “My dearest Adam. I’ll always be your best friend. Always.” Then she came closer and put her head on his shoulder. He could hardly hear her soft voice. “It’s been such a long time since you held me in your arms, Adam. You wouldn’t have to tell me you love me, but would you—would you like to—hold me in your arms once more and make love to me? Our last time together?”
Adam was thinking of this now as he said to Jennifer, “The divorce was Mary Beth’s idea.”
Adam went on talking, but Jennifer was no longer listening to the words; she was only hearing the music. She felt as though she were floating, soaring. She had steeled herself for Adam to tell her he could never see her again—and now this! It was too much to absorb. She knew how painful the scene with Mary Beth must have been for Adam, and Jennifer had never loved Adam more than she did at this moment. She felt as though a crushing load had been lifted from her chest, as though she could breathe again.
Adam was saying, “Mary Beth was wonderful about it. She’s an incredible woman. She’s genuinely happy for both of us.”
“That’s hard to believe.”
“You don’t understand. For some time now we’ve lived more like…brother and sister. I’ve never discussed it with you, but—” he hesitated and said carefully, “Mary Beth doesn’t have strong…drives.”
“I see.”
“She’d like to meet you.”
The thought of it disturbed Jennifer. “I don’t think I could, Adam. I’d feel—uncomfortable.”
“Trust me.”
“If—if you want me to, Adam, of course.”
“Good, darling. We’ll go for tea. I’ll drive you out.”
Jennifer thought for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be better if I went alone?”
The following morning, Jennifer drove out the Saw Mill River Parkway, headed upstate. It was a crisp, clear morning, a lovely day for a drive. Jennifer turned on the car radio and tried to forget her nervousness about the meeting facing her.
The Warner house was a magnificently preserved house of Dutch origin, overlooking the river at Croton-on-Hudson, set on a large estate of rolling green acres. Jennifer drove up the driveway to the imposing front entrance. She rang the bell and a moment later the door was opened by an attractive woman in her middle thirties. The last thing Jennifer had expected was this shy southern woman who took her hand, gave her a warm smile and said, “I’m Mary Beth. Adam didn’t do you justice. Please come in.”
Adam’s wife was wearing a beige wool skirt that was softly full, and a silk blouse opened just enough to reveal a mature but still lovely breast. Her beige-blond hair was worn long and slightly curling about her face, and was flattering to her blue eyes. The pearls around her neck could never be mistaken as cultured. There was an air of old-world dignity about Mary Beth Warner.
The interior of the house was lovely, with wide, spacious rooms filled with antiques and beautiful paintings.
A butler served tea in the drawing room from a Georgian silver tea service.
When he had left the room, Mary Beth said, “I’m sure you must love Adam very much.”
Jennifer said awkwardly, “I want you to know, Mrs. Warner, that neither of us planned—”
Mary Beth Warner put a hand on Jennifer’s arm. “You don’t have to tell me that. I don’t know whether Adam told you, but our marriage has turned into a marriage of politeness. Adam and I have known each other since we were children. I think I fell in love with Adam the first time I saw him. We went to the same parties and had the same friends, and I suppose it was inevitable that one day we would get married. Don’t misunderstand. I still adore Adam and I’m sure he adores me. But people do change, don’t they?”
“Yes.”
Jennifer looked at Mary Beth and she was filled with a deep feeling of gratitude. What could have been an ugly and sordid scene had turned into something friendly and wonderful. Adam had been right. Mary Beth was a lovely lady.
“I’m very grateful to you,” Jennifer said.
“And I’m grateful to you,” Mary Beth confided. She smiled shyly and said, “You see, I’m very much in love, too. I was going to get the divorce immediately but I thought, for Adam’s sake, we’d best wait until after the election.”
Jennifer had been so busy with her own emotions that she had forgotten about the election.
Mary Beth went on: “Everyone seems sure that Adam is going to be our next senator, and a divorce now would gravely hurt his chances. It’s only six months away, so I decided it would be better for him if I delayed it.” She looked at Jennifer. “But forgive me—is that agreeable with you?”
“Of course it is,” Jennifer said.
She would have to completely readjust her thinking. Her future would now be tied to Adam. If he became senator, she would live with him in Washington, D.C. It would mean giving up her law practice here, but that did not matter. Nothing mattered except that they could be together.
Jennifer said, “Adam will make a wonderful senator.”
Mary Beth raised her head and smiled. “My dear, one day Adam Warner is going to make a wonderful President.”
The telephone was ringing when Jennifer arrived back at the apartment. It was Adam. “How did you get along with Mary Beth?”
“Adam, she was wonderful!”
“She said the same thing about you.”
“You read about old southern charm, but you don’t come across it very often. Mary Beth has it. She’s quite a lady.”
“So are you, darling. Where would you like to be married?”
Jennifer said, “Times Square, for all I care. But I think we should wait, Adam.”
“Wait for what?”
“Until after the election. Your career is important. A divorce could hurt you right now.”
“My private life is—”
“—going to become your public life. We mustn’t do anything that might spoil your chances. We can wait six months.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“I don’t either, darling.” Jennifer smiled. “We won’t really be waiting, will we?”
Jennifer and Adam had lunch together almost every day, and once or twice a week Adam spent the night at their apartment. They had to be more discreet than ever, for Adam’s campaign had actively begun, and he was becoming a nationally prominent figure. He gave speeches at political rallies and fund-raising dinners, and his opinions on national issues were quoted more and more frequently in the press.
Adam and Stewart Needham were having their ritual morning tea.
“Saw you on the Today show this morning,” Needham said. “Fine job, Adam. You got every single point across. I understand they’ve invited you back again.”
“Stewart, I hate doing those shows. I feel like some goddamned actor up there, performing.”
Stewart nodded, unperturbed. “That’s what politicians are, Adam—actors. Playing a part, being what the public wants them to be. Hell, if politicians acted like themselves in public—what expression do the kids use?—letting it all hang out?—this country’d be a damned monarchy.”
“I don’t like the fact that running for public office has become a personality contest.”
Stewart Needham smiled. “Be grateful you’ve got the personality, my boy. Your ratings in the polls keep going up every week.” He stopped to pour more tea. “Believe me, this is only the beginning. First the Senate, then the number one target. Nothing can stop you.” He paused to take a sip of his tea. “Unless you do something foolish, that is.”
Adam looked up at him. “What do you mean?”
Stewart Needham delicately wiped his lips with a damask napkin.
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